


semi-sheer and semi-sweet

by blackboxxremedy



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Crossdressing, Foreplay, M/M, Panties, also i have this idea that roman would love being called pretty because lets face it, because he fears rejection and has more issues than vogue, i don't know this just kind of happened, i really have no good explanation/source of inspiration for this, more dommy(?)!peter (sort of a little bit???), obviously you can imagine that roman would have a few hang-ups to work through, roman just wants to explore some things but he feels scared to, that's basically it, this boy is self-absorbed and we know it, vulnerable!roman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackboxxremedy/pseuds/blackboxxremedy
Summary: Roman’s asking Peter to leave again, but Peter’s not really hearing him as he looks at the lingerie box in his hands. His immediate impulse is to bust down that fucking bathroom door and beat Roman’s ass, because fuck him for thinking that he could fuck around on Peter with a fucking girl, and he’s buying her little lacy gifts and shit, but then Peter’s better judgement catches up with his anger, and he has a new thought: perhaps Roman bought women’s lingerie… to wear... and that’s why he’d hiding.if you wanted roman godfrey in panties, here it is





	semi-sheer and semi-sweet

**Author's Note:**

> roman's got a thing for wearing panties and he wants to show peter, but he freaks out because he was raised so badly and is just blatantly afraid to be who he is sometimes, okay?
> 
> also soft, vulnerable roman is my tiniest son and i love him.

After about forty minutes of texting Peter absolute filth one lazy afternoon, Roman finally sends a message telling him to come up the mansion so Peter and Roman can, quote, “... fuck until one of the maids can’t take the sound of the headboard hitting the wall anymore.”

With a proposition like that on the table, Peter can’t say no, so he grabs his jacket and begins ambling up to the Godfrey mansion, hands shoved in his pockets with a smile on his face. It’s a pretty day, sunny and warm in a way that doesn’t suffocate, and the prospect of spending the majority of the rest of the day in Roman’s bed always does wonders for his mood as it is.

Halfway up the road, Peter’s phone buzzes, and he looks at it, finding another text from Roman flashing on the screen.

Hurry the fuck up, wolf boy, I have a surprise for you.

That makes Peter chuckle to himself. Roman’s “surprises” usually included some form of mild bondage, or chocolate, or knives, or a combination of the aforementioned items. The one constant, however, is that a “surprise” always meant that Peter was guaranteed to go home sore and wrung out and exhausted, but also very, very satisfied.

Peter picks up the pace, and soon, he’s being ushered into the Godfrey mansion by one of the maids, a pretty older woman who informed him that Mrs. Godfrey was out of town for the night and that Roman was upstairs in his room.

Halfway down the hall to Roman’s room, Peter calls out, grinning, “So what’s the surprise this time? Got a new knife you wanna play with? Did you finally buy a real pair of handcuffs?”

Rounding the corner into Roman’s room, Peter expects to be greeted with Roman standing there in some degree of undress, holding something that he’s made plans for. Instead, Peter’s greeted with the slamming of Roman’s bathroom door, and he snaps his head to the side in just enough time to watch the door click shut.

“Roman?” Peter calls, standing still halfway into the room, staring at the en suite’s door.

“Get out,” Roman calls back, voice muffled through the door. “Just for a second.”

“Why?” Peter asks, taking a couple of steps towards the bathroom. He hears Roman throw the lock and starts getting vaguely worried that something’s happened. “Baby, is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just get out of my fucking room,” Roman snaps, and Peter can’t help but feel a little hurt. His boyfriend hauls him up here to fuck, and then he won’t even look him in the eyes while he’s telling Peter to leave? Ridiculous. 

“And don’t call me that right now,” Roman adds softly, almost as an afterthought, and his voice sounds a little raw and vulnerable.

Peter catches the insecurity and turns around, looking for anything that could explain why Roman fucking Godfrey is cowering in his bathroom, hiding from Peter, his boyfriend, of all people. He finds his explanation kicked halfways under the bed, in the form of a dainty little clothing box. 

The box is open, but empty, save for a few pieces of tissue paper folded up inside. Its lid is laying next to it, and when Peter turns the thing over, he sees the name of lingerie store printed on the front of it. It’s a little shop in Hemlock Grove’s shopping district, and Peter’s passed by it a couple of times. The place is always filled with women, and usually women with money at that, seeing that their prices are astronomical.

Roman’s asking Peter to leave again, but Peter’s not really hearing him as he looks at the lingerie box in his hands. His immediate impulse is to bust down that fucking bathroom door and beat Roman’s ass, because fuck him for thinking that he could fuck around on Peter with a fucking girl, and he’s buying her little lacy gifts and shit, but then Peter’s better judgement catches up with his anger, and he has a new thought: perhaps Roman bought women’s lingerie… to wear... and that’s why he’d hiding.

“Roman,” Peter calls calmly, heart pulsing in his chest as he sets the box down on the end of the bed and walks towards the bathroom door. His head’s absolutely brimming with new images now, images of Roman in lace and satin and silk and cotton, images of Roman in different shapes and cuts and styles.

“What?” Roman asks, and he sounds equal parts desperate and annoyed.

“I found the box, Roman. Whatever you’re wearing, I want to see it on you.”

And Peter does. Roman’s got an amazing ass, and he’s tall and beautiful and perfect. Peter’s never pictured him in panties or slips or other garments along those lines until about two minutes ago, but now that he is, he suddenly has an almost painful need to see Roman all dressed up for him.

“I look like a fucking idiot. It was so stupid. Please just leave the room so I can change, I don’t want you to see me like this.” Roman sounds like he’s almost a little scared, and Peter’s taken aback at that. He hasn’t heard Roman this vulnerable and soft in months, not since Roman worked up the nerve to ask Peter to fuck him. They’d been having sex for weeks before that, but Roman always topped, was always in control, was always the dominant one in every situation, not that Peter minded much at all. It was like Roman felt like he was showing a sort of weakness by wanting Peter to take him, though ninety-nine percent of the rational world would never see it like that.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Roman grew up in a fucked-up household, but as Peter’s come to understand the dynamics of the Godfrey family a little more in-depth, he’s beginning to put together that Roman grew up in the kind of household where things like crying and wanting affection (and, most likely, being gay) were strongly frowned upon. To say that Roman’s gone through an adjustment period when it comes to Peter being gentle with him would be an understatement. For fuck’s sake, he just let Peter start calling him things like “baby” in private like two months ago.

“Make me a deal,” Peter tells Roman gently, standing right in front of the bathroom door now. “Come out of the bathroom and let me tell you how I think you look in what you’re wearing. If you still feel stupid, you can change and we never have to talk about it.” He pauses. “And I promise I won’t laugh, or tell you that you look stupid, or shame you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You fucking gypsies and your deals,” Roman cusses, but he still goes on to say, “But fine. I’ll come out. But if you fucking laugh, Peter, I swear to God-”

“I won’t laugh,” Peter cuts, and he takes a couple of steps back from the door as he hears the lock turn. The knob turns, and Roman steps out of the bathroom. 

Peter nearly cums on himself right then and there. Roman is flustered and fidgeting where he stands, but his legs are so long and pale and pretty, and he’s fucking wearing panties. Cream-colored panties that are sort of sheer but not really, with little scalloped laces on all the edges and a tiny satin bow on the front.

“Oh my fucking God,” Peter blurts, all capacity for controlling himself gone now that all of the blood in his body has seemingly rushed straight to his dick. He even feels a little lightheaded, drinking in the sight of Roman fucking Godfrey in a little pair of women’s panties, his cock hard and clearly outlined in the semi-sheerness of the fabric. Peter wants to touch Roman, to run his hands all over his ass and his hips and his cock, wants to push his boyfriend onto the bed and rip the fucking underwear off of Roman and fuck him until he knows just exactly how Peter feels about him wearing lingerie for him. He never thought they’d up here, with Roman standing there all vulnerable and nervous in a pair of women’s underwear while Peter considers absolutely wrecking him, but then again, there was a time when Peter couldn’t even picture himself kissing Roman Godfrey, let alone fucking him.

Slipping off his jacket and boots, Peter walks to Roman slowly, eyes raking over his body again and again on their own accord. Roman’s entire body relaxes when Peter moves to kiss his boyfriend’s neck, slow and deliberate and loving, and he moans so pretty when Peter starts to palm him through the silky fabric of his underwear.

“You were going to hide this from me?” Peter asks, half mumbling against Roman’s skin. He scolds him gently. “Roman, come on now.”

“I didn’t want you to think it was fucked up or funny or whatever. It was sort of an impulse purchase. I don’t make good decisions when my dick is hard, you know that.” Roman’s back to his old self now, cocky and nonchalant and so above it all, but Peter can hear what lies beneath all of the bravado. I lost my nerve because I’m scared to let people see these parts of me. I feel ashamed of myself.

Peter manages to get Roman onto the bed, undressing himself as quickly as he can. “Do these make you feel pretty, baby?” he asks Roman, mostly naked now and on top of his boyfriend.

“Fuck off,” Roman breathes, but his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, and he won’t meet Peter’s eyes.

“My pretty, pretty boy,” Peter purrs, pressing kisses to Roman’s chest as he talks. “That box is way too big for just one pair. I bet you couldn’t stop yourself once you started picking them out for yourself.”

Peter sneaks a look up at Roman, and he can tell that Roman’s battling between being a cocky asshole like he always is and letting Peter make over him without a fight. Peter starts kissing along the lacy edge of Roman’s waistband, and that seems to do it.

“You have no fucking idea,” he moans, sounding almost relieved. “I… I bought like five pairs, maybe more than that. I didn’t mean to, but I liked them all, and I thought about you fucking me while I was wearing them, and what you would say, and I couldn’t make myself put any of them back.” Roman’s rambling now, but Peter doesn’t mind. He’s glad that his boyfriend’s relaxing, glad that he’s opening up about how he feels.

“Well then we have a lot to do tonight, apparently,” Peter laughs, soft and with a smirk on his face, and Roman rolls his eyes, once again snapping into his typical Godfrey attitude.

“You’re obviously just a whore for my dick, you don’t even really care about the underwear,” he quips, but the superior smile drops off of his face in a flash when Peter starts palming him again.

“You know good and well that you’re going to be my bitch all night, so I wouldn’t be so high and mighty, pretty boy.”

Roman’s eyes burn with defiance, but he’s already fumbling for the lube in his bedside drawer.


End file.
